


Heart Burnt Black

by gakkaiwa



Series: What I Want to Hear (What You're Hesitant to Say) [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood and Injury, M/M, Mentions of Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:33:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27077299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gakkaiwa/pseuds/gakkaiwa
Summary: “And for the love of God, stay away from Loey’s cock.”
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Park Chanyeol
Series: What I Want to Hear (What You're Hesitant to Say) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1976185
Comments: 7
Kudos: 28





	Heart Burnt Black

**Author's Note:**

> [1\. "Pull over. Let me drive for a while."](https://p0ck3tf0x.tumblr.com/post/98502010026/one-hundred-ways-to-say-i-love-you)

Baekhyun knows the mission is botched immediately after his communication with Xiumin is cut off, a long static replacing the older’s rapidly given orders. He tries not to panic—he’s a professional, for God’s sake—but even before he can count the ten steps he can take to somehow solve this, he feels the rooftop he’s on starting to shake. In fact, it shakes hard enough that the gun he leans against the railing moves with the sway and fucking _falls_. He’s thirty floors up and his only fucking weapon (a lie, but he thinks he’s allowed this dramatic) just leaves his fucking hands. Great.

He curses, pulling the earpiece off as he runs towards the rooftop door. It’s hard fumbling for a new (smaller and weaker) gun while simultaneously calling his partners as he runs down three flights of stairs at a time, but he has enough experience to stop himself from breaking his own neck. One good thing in the current mess, at least. No broken neck. Hopefully. His hands are sweaty.

It feels like forever before the call finally connects, and it takes everything in him to not yell. Instead he lets out a relieved sigh and says, “Xiumin’s down. Where the fuck are you?”

“Trying not to die?” Chen replies, his voice barely above a whisper. That doesn’t sound good. “And Xiumin’s thankfully not down. Someone from the feds got to him.”

That sounds exactly like being down, in their line of work, but Baekhyun swallows the sharp remark at the tip of his tongue. “So what’s your plan?”

Chen exhales loudly. “Not die, hopefully,” he says yet again, and he sounds almost out of breath. There’s a few seconds where he can hear scuffling, two, three thumps, and then Chen is back. “Follow the cop car for now. You should go back and report. This could take a while.”

Good fucking God. “D.O. isn’t an option?”

“He’s with the tall fuckers this time around.” He can almost hear Chen’s roll of eyes. “You need to let him fuck you more so we can have all hands on deck when shit like this happens. We’re on a shortage of corrupt cops, if you haven’t noticed.”

Baekhyun snorts. “You know he has a _boyfriend_ , now,” he spits out, the word tasting like acid. He glances up and sees he’s at the seventeenth floor. “That shit’s not an option anymore. I thought things are going well with that detective you’ve been chasing for months? Kim Junmyeon? Didn’t you say you sent him flowers or some shit? We can’t use him yet?”

There’s a beat of silence before Chen snarls. “Keep him out of it.”

“Gross,” Baekhyun gags. Eighth floor, and he leans against the door, breathing heavily. He pushes it open slowly, checking all the directions of the corridor to make sure it’s empty, and only slipping out of the door when the silence assures him enough. He checks his gun, and clicks the safety off with a satisfied grunt. “And to think Lay sent you to him specifically to suck his brain through his dick so we can make him turn into our pawn. Fucking useless.”

“Whatever,” Chen grumbles. His voice sounds more steady, and Baekhyun assumes he’s passed the worst of the crisis. There’s a few muffled explosions he can hear, though he’s not sure if it’s from Chen’s side or his, kept away from the thick walls of faux luxury of the hotel he’s walking through. “I’m out of here. Stay out of trouble, don’t report back to Lay unless we don’t come back in 48 hours.” A pause. “And for the love of God, stay away from Loey’s cock.”

Baekhyun only stumbles because there’s a shot of disgust climbing up his spine. That’s all it is. “What the fuck—,” he starts, but before he can tell Chen how much exactly that insinuation offends him, the call ends with a click. He shoves his phone into his pocket hard. “Son of a bitch.”

The elevator is thankfully empty when Baekhyun steps onto it. It’s surrounded by mirrors, and he checks his appearance as subtly as possible. They only disarm the security cameras on the eighth floor, deeming it efficient enough, and Baekhyun can’t afford yet another fuck up in this whole mess. In the mirror, his eyes look alert, but his expression is neutral. The suit he’s wearing barely has any wrinkles, and his hair looks a little disheveled, but nothing a little touch up can’t help. 

_Actually,_ he thinks as he runs his hand over his hair a few times, the disheveled look can be more appropriate. Now it looks like a proper bed head, and considering the hotel’s infamous reputation as rich people’s whores’ favorite spot for their rendezvous, he can easily pass as one of the ladies’ boy toys. He knows he looks flushed enough after all the running.

Fuck. Suddenly his brain flies into Chen’s last words to him. _Stay away from Loey’s cock._ Fucking Kim Jongdae, that spawn of satan, straight from the crack of hell itself. He’s got some nerves saying shit like that to Baekhyun, considering he’s the one who has gotten lovesick simply from one or two rides with that Kim Junmyeon detective. He’s lucky their leader is too nice to make him do something he would hate, letting him take care of the looming catastrophe by himself. If anyone needs to be focused on the job and not get distracted by some fucking, it’s _him_! Baekhyun isn’t the one who’s fucking up here. He’s the one left to pick up the pieces, if anything. Sure, Chen is the one currently trying to keep Xiumin away from getting written down by the police, but Baekhyun is now stuck at their hiding den, responsible for keeping their base of operation steady! And he can’t tell Lay! Does Chen even have any idea how much work that is?

He tries not to think about that one weekend in November, almost two years ago. That was a mishap. He was compromised (kind of), and taken advantage of (sort of), and nothing had come out of it (not at all). It’s not even worth mentioning about. Nope. Baekhyun has already forgotten all about it, as he’s sure all parties involved do. It means nothing.

And fine, maybe there’s another lapse of judgment in April, last year. Two days in August. A whole week in December. Another weekend two months ago.

Baekhyun leans against the elevator wall. “Fuck,” he sighs. Whatever, he just has to go back home now. The elevator door opens, and he crosses the lobby easily, throwing small flirty smiles towards some of the hotel staffs who are looking curiously at him, reveling in the blush they all get after. Weak, all weaklings. They will remember him as one of the thousand faces that pass this hotel, now, another one who put their chips in the conquest. They won’t remember his features, just that he’s beautiful and friendly and well-fucked, just like the other young attractive little things roaming around them. 

Good enough.

As luck has it, however, he’s barely passed the hotel entrance when a car suddenly stops in front of him with a loud screech, possibly pulling everyone’s attention. It would have been fine has it been an ordinary sports car, but instead it’s a fucking Mercedes, huge and black and one that is far too familiar to him.

Also, there are several gunshots embedded on the side.

He’s praying no one’s paying any mind to this dumb big car, lest all his work to be as inconspicuous as possible evaporates to thin air, as the door to the car is pushed open. He doesn’t need to look inside to know who snaps, “Get in,” with a low voice.

Baekhyun grits his teeth. Absolutely not. “Uh,” he says instead, because he’s a fucking moron.

A loud sigh. “Byun, I don’t fucking have time for this. Sehun blew up your car, we saw one of your crews getting pushed in a police car, and Kai is currently tailing Chen. You have no other options. Get the fuck in while I’m feeling generous.”

There are several things that should raise Baekhyun’s alarm in that long sentence alone, disregarding the fact that they are parts of two different, possibly rivaling (Lay, their own leader, hates that word, more prone to using the word “healthy competition” instead, as if that makes them feel less murderous towards each other), and Loey just asked—demanded, really, that rude prick—him to get into his car like he won’t kill Baekhyun. All that comes out, however, is a high-pitched, “Sehun blew up my _what?_ ”

“Byun,” he groans. “Yes or no. I need to leave, with or without you.”

It sounds like an ultimatum, but Baekhyun has known Loey long enough to know that if he really means to leave Baekhyun then he would have already done it. Something in his voice makes Baekhyun’s throat itchy. He likes to think he’s already calculated the benefits and losses of getting into the car. He ignores the fact that it takes him less than five seconds before he climbs into the disgustingly tall vehicle. Loey, as usual, scoffs as he watches Baekhyun struggle, but it probably says something about the direness of their situation that he zooms off before Baekhyun even closes the door, not saying another word of mockery.

“Oy!” He yelps, clinging to the seat belt. “A little warning would be nice!”

“Shut up,” he says, almost easily, and Baekhyun might be disillusioned, but he’s not blind. Loey’s scrunched up face is sweaty, specks of blood and dirt all over it. There’s an open wound right at his temple that faces Baekhyun, actively bleeding.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Baekhyun frowns. “And what the fuck happened to my car?”

Loey exhales through his nose. “That shit’s on Sehun. I didn’t even see him do it. I’ll make him buy you a new one, just send the model. Nothing I can do about the shit inside.” Baekhyun almost protests, wanting to loudly remind him that his car has—or had now, he guesses—a variety of weapons already customized for him, some blueprints for their plans, and fuck, his fucking laptop. He doesn’t, though, not after he listens to the tremble in Loey’s voice as he speaks. Now that Baekhyun’s watching even more carefully, his entire arm is shaking, a slight shiver like he’s cold. Loey has this weird habit of wearing as little clothing as possible while going on a run, but Baekhyun doubts that’s the case now.

“Loey,” he says, voice helplessly softer, “what’s wrong?”

He barely gives him a glance, but he grins as his gaze moves between the road and the rearview mirror, eyes skittish. The grin is bloody. “I have your baby, though,” he continues, as if Baekhyun hasn’t said anything at all. “Fallen through the sky like a miracle I never asked for. Right on top of my car.” Baekhyun hasn’t even opened his mouth yet, but he lets go of the steering wheel for a moment to reach backwards and pulls the blanket covering the backseat before he puts his one hand on it again. “Probably a bit banged up, but I used it just now and she's as powerful as ever. Took three of your bullets, sorry.”

Baekhyun reaches towards the huge gun himself, caressing it a little. He can feel the scratches, but like Loey said, she feels as powerful as she’s always been, all parts operating as they should on her. And, also like Loey said, she’s missing three bullets. Suddenly, the stench of copper overwhelms his senses, and he gulps. He puts his gun on his lap, trying to be nonchalant. He doesn’t want to look at the other. “Well, you know what the exchange is.”

Loey barks a laugh, and Baekhyun keeps his eyes out the window as it trickles into a wet cough. “Yep. I have good memories, don’t worry.”

The silence between them stretches, and it’s only until they pass the third traffic light and Loey’s coughing becomes so loud and wet and unbearable that Baekhyun turns, a curse or two right on his tongue, along with a question about where the fuck their destination actually is. He doesn’t get to, however, because as he does, Loey’s face is a bloody mess, his hair stuck out from the stickiness of blood, red against his dark strands, and even more blood is all over his jaw. 

“What the actual fuck,” Baekhyun says, and he looks down and finally acknowledges what he should have noticed the moment he lays his eyes on Loey.

To say Loey is injured is an understatement, really. He’s holding onto the steering wheel with one hand because his other is pressed against his abdomen, and Baekhyun realizes with horror that the darkness under his opened suit is not actually this tall idiot actually having the decency to wear an undershirt, but blood seeping all over every inch of his skin. There’s a pathetic piece of cloth held against what Baekhyun guesses is the wound, and it’s drenched to a dark color that’s not even close to the redness of blood anymore. It’s drying on some part of his body, but it mostly glistens, either because it keeps coming out or because Loey himself is drenched with sweat.

Oh. Oh fucking fuck to the lowest pit of hell.

“You—,” Baekhyun starts, but his tongue feels swollen. He doesn’t even know what he can say. “How are you _alive_?”

“You should be glad that I am,” Loey retorts, a small smile, God’s forbid, on his face. What the fuck he could possibly be smiling about, Baekhyun refuses to even understand. “I’m abnormally resistant to death. You should know it, you’re the one who told me.”

Baekhyun, indeed, did tell him that, when he stabs Loey for what feels like a billion times on one run and left him for dead, only to see the stupid grin again on their next mission months after. At that time, Loey felt like a fucking cockroach, way too persistent to cling to his miserable life to ever let Baekhyun have the triumph of eliminating him. He said the same thing after the third time they fell into bed, after Loey slowly and stupidly let his guards down between the sheets, his breath even as Baekhyun pulled the rope around his neck until his face turned blue the moment he blinked. He only stopped because he felt Loey’s cum trickling out of his ass, and it felt disgusting to do this in the afterglow. Loey barely even mentioned it after his pathetic gasp of breath.

_Abnormally resistant to death._

Now, the words feel gauntly, too thin to fill the space between them, to come out of Loey’s bloody lips.

“Pull over,” Baekhyun says before he even realizes what he’s saying, and he really can’t care less what Loey is thinking behind the widening of his eyes, he _doesn’t fucking care_. “Let me drive for a while.”

The light turns green, and some cars speed past them with curses thrown, a loud honk surrounding the car, but Loey looks at him without words. His eyes are huge, bugged out like he’s permanently in shock, but even under the stains all over his face they remain clear and bright. Baekhyun wants to throw up, though he’s not sure anymore why he feels this sick. Loey’s licks his lips. Copper, salt, blood. If he kisses Loey now, Baekhyun wonders if he will taste it all.

“You don’t know where we’re going,” Loey says finally, voice soft. He turns towards the road again, changing the gear and pressing the pedal to move. The car moves slowly, and somehow he manages to maneuver it enough to avoid other speeding cars. Baekhyun wants to scream at him. “Just sit pretty for me.”

“I will blow your brain out against that window,” Baekhyun says, tone absolutely neutral. His grip on his gun tightens, and while there’s some impossibility in the practicality of using his baby on Loey now—the blow back, the noise that will attract too much unwanted attention, the possibility of the car swerving out of the road and killing them both after—Baekhyun knows, as much as Loey does, probably, that he doesn’t ever back down on his words. Especially not this. Especially not like _this_. “Pull over, now.”

He doesn’t like that it’s less of a threat than it is a plea, and he absolutely despises that Loey is probably sharp enough to recognize that, because he heaves a huge sigh and turns the steering wheel slowly. The road isn’t as deserted as Baekhyun wants it to be, and there are even more honks and insults thrown their way now, but Baekhyun barely pays attention as he opens his seat belt and throws his gun the the backseat again, kicking the door open harshly before he jumps down. He circles the car and finds Loey already standing at the side of the car, leaning way too heavily against it to Baekhyun’s liking, leaving yet another spread of red against the darkness of his dusty black car. 

There’s another small smile on his face. Baekhyun wants desperately to punch him in the face, just as much as he wants to maul his face with his tongue. Absolutely disgusting. “Treat my boy well,” he grins. “He’s very moody.”

“Just like his owner,” Baekhyun spits, pushing him off of his way. His palm wettens almost immediately, and he staggers a little. He looks up and makes a face. “You need help?”

It’s a struggle pushing the words out, even after everything, and it must show on his face because Loey laughs softly. Baekhyun has a feeling he doesn’t cackle only because it hurts him to do so. “You’ll have a harder time getting in this car than I will ever do, baby.”

He blames the flush creeping up his neck to his sharp anger and annoyance at the (almost) condescending tone. Loey is lucky he has enough kindness in his body to not run him over while he’s limping towards the other side of the car. It’s totally possible.

Unfortunately, Loey is already hauling his ass up the car the moment Baekhyun slams the car door closed, and he’s right there when Baekhyun turns to put his hands on the (bloody, disgusting, and oh God he can feel blood sipping through his pants, he already regrets everything the way he does when he does anything relating to this stupid, gangly, dumb, idiotic—) steering wheel, only to grip on air because it’s.

It’s too fucking far.

He can’t reach the fucking steering wheel from his position.

Despite his belief—and at this point, really, it’s a want—that Loey is in too much pain to make too loud of a noise, he fucking laughs, his ugly guffaw filling the stupidly stinky car, and Baekhyun truly, genuinely, hates his guts. Even those currently spilling out of him, hopefully all over the car floor.

“You need help?” Loey asks, wiping away tears from his crinkled eyes. Baekhyun wants to stab his eyes.

Baekhyun inhales through his mouth. “I will murder you,” he says calmly, chanting several ways he can kill Loey in a more secluded place later as he closes his eyes and reaches down to adjust his seat. Loey is suspiciously silent when he’s already putting on the seat belt as well, and when he turns towards him still promising death upon the stupid giant, Loey is fucking smiling.

Again.

Another soft smile, eyes twinkling like they hold secrets Baekhyun can’t get his hands on. It’s an expression Baekhyun is now unfortunately too used to. On the ground, while they’re shooting at each other across the rooftops, that smile. When he lifts Baekhyun off the ground and up against the wall, sucking purples on his neck, that smile. With Baekhyun’s head against the bed, a slight glance backwards to see Loey pound into him slowly, too slow, too deep, that smile.

Baekhyun hates it and cares for it and wants to erase it and wants to cherish it all in equal amounts, but he figures that’s just another thing he needs to get used to.

“Tell me where to go,” Baekhyun says, voice almost too soft to his liking, but he knows what this holds. This isn’t a weekend getaway at their personal apartment, detached from their livelihood. This isn’t a cheap motel they rent when they’re too pent up and too hungry for each other. This isn’t Loey bending him in a random office they come across in the middle of their intersecting missions, wanting to want just because. This isn’t even Baekhyun getting stuck on Loey’s cock, fuck Jongdae to all hells.

Loey knows what this is too, Baekhyun is sure. He doesn’t know what it says about him that he isn’t surprised when Loey gasps out an address, clear and sharp, before he finally lets himself fold into the pain he’s been holding in. He lays back against his seat, eyes heavy as he looks at Baekhyun, and Baekhyun’s throat is parched as he starts to drive.


End file.
